


Exile

by Mechanical_Orange



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-02
Updated: 2012-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mechanical_Orange/pseuds/Mechanical_Orange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU.  Captain Zuko Tanaka and Dr. Katara Moon are trapped in an isolated research facility in the South Pole.  Tempers flare and secrets are revealed as the two are forced to try and get along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exile

**Author's Note:**

> Sozin's failed expedition is based on a real one by Robert Falcon Scott in 1912, however I've taken some liberties with the true events. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

There are three doors you must open in order to get outside: the first leads to the equipment room where you must put on your gear, the second opens into the airlock where you must drain away all the warm air and the third opens outside where you must only spend a few hours lest you freeze to death.

 

Three doors of thick steel are all that separates you from the unforgiving cold of the South Pole.

 

“This is more than they had,” he murmurs, exasperation and anger thinly veiled by his quiet voice.  “Much more.”

 

She scoffs.  “Then why are our people dropping like flies too?”  She has her hands on her hips and a scowl firmly held on her face.  “We’re the only ones left!”

 

“I know!” he yells, rising from his seat at the kitchen table.  “Aren’t you supposed to be the expert?” he sneers.  “Why don’t you tell me?”

 

“Well maybe if you weren’t intent on sabotaging your own mission we’d still have people left!”

 

“I’m sabotaging the mission?” he asks, incredulous.  “I’ve been doing exactly as you say since we got here.”  He takes two long steps and he is right in front of her, right in her face.  “If anyone is a saboteur, it’s you.”

 

“Me?” she yells, refusing to back down.  “You’re the leader here, Captain Tanaka.”  The stinging sarcasm in her feels like a slap across his face.  Then she adds, “And hardly better at it than your great grandfather,” and he thinks they might really come to blows.

 

But he is saved from making that decision as the lights flicker once, twice, and then fail completely.  The comforting white noise produced by the generator no longer whirs in the background and both Captain Zuko Tanaka and Dr. Katara Moon are left in cold, dark silence. 

 

“Shit,” he whispers.

 

He hears the clatter of something hard falling onto metal, then feels someone shoving something into his hand.  A bright light shines into his eyes and he realizes Dr. Moon has already grabbed two flashlights, several candles, matches and a lantern in the few seconds he’s been standing there like an idiot.  He turns on his flashlight just in time to see the doctor strike a match and light a candle.

 

“You could help me, you know,” she says. 

 

“Oh, right.”  He grabs an unlit candle and holds it to the flame of the lit one.  “Quick thinking.”

 

She snorts.  “One of us will have to go out and check the generator.  It shouldn’t be out of gas, but maybe it sprung a leak or some of the wiring frosted over.”

 

“I’ll go,” he says.

 

“When I said one of us, I meant me,” she snaps.  “You wouldn’t know the first thing about fixing the generator.”

 

“Just tell me what to do,” Captain Tanaka replies impatiently.  “It can’t be that hard.”

 

“I bet that’s exactly what your great grandfather said before he led twenty men to their deaths,” she says as she strikes a match to light the lantern.

 

“What is your problem?” he cries, slamming his fist on the table.  She barely flinches.  “That was practically a century ago, just let it go!”

 

“How can I when you’re here doing the same thing?” she yells.  “How can I, after you said you were willing to learn from his mistakes?”

 

“I did learn!” he says.  “I’m still learning if you would just teach me!”

 

“The only thing you’ve learned is how to be an arrogant prick.”  Dr. Moon grabs the lantern from the table and storms out of the room, the thick steel door slamming behind her.

 

Captain Tanaka can hear her in the equipment room, donning the many layers of gear needed to survive the harsh weather outside.  He turns off his flashlight to save its batteries, and lets the dim candlelight wash over the room.  It’s things like this—conserving resources and planning ahead—attention to little details that his great grandfather lacked that doomed his expedition.  Tanaka hears the second door open and shut—a solid, metallic sound that reverberates throughout the compound. 

 

Tanaka sits in the near-dark, stewing in his frustration.  It wouldn’t be so bad if what she said weren’t true.  But he knows deep in his heart that her words—as hateful as they may be—have more than a kernel of truth to them.

 

His great grandfather, Sozin Tanaka, was a man of action, of power, and of pride.  He didn’t take his actions lightly, but his unrelenting stubbornness kept him from taking advice, even when the advice came from much more experienced and knowledgeable men.  And there was his downfall. 

 

Sozin was determined to conquer the world, or at least leave his mark on it.  A rich man who cashed in on his country’s exoticism to foreigners, Sozin funded his excursions all over the world and soon became obsessed with becoming the first man to reach the South Pole.  It was the great undiscovered country, and to a man who had summited impossible mountains and trekked through perilous jungles, it was the only option.  He had to conquer it, own it, claim it for himself and revel in its newness. 

 

And it became a race.  There was another man, an explorer, who decided to trek across the Antarctic.  A man by the name of Pakku, a native of the far north, embarked on his own mission and despite Pakku’s knowledge and experience, Sozin was determined to beat him.

 

Sozin was far from prepared; he was ill-equipped and inexperienced, and the equipment he did possess was hardly suited to the harsh and unrelenting conditions of the South Pole.

 

But his stubbornness—some have called it excessive machismo—kept him going through hurdle after hurdle, equipment failure, hunger, and illness until finally death stopped him forever.

 

Only one man from the disastrous expedition made it back alive, but just barely.  He managed to survive by eating the leather of the dead men’s shoes, and the last remaining pony they had brought with them in place of dogs.  He had managed to hold onto Sozin’s journal and released it to the Tanaka family upon his return.  Tanaka had it with him now, hoping that the clues within would lead them to his great grandfather’s body.

 

So far they hadn’t.

 

Captain Tanaka’s disappointment at the lack of progress was palpable after the first two weeks.  The original party contained five members, Tanaka included.  He had scouted Dr. Moon after reading about her many successful scientific trips to the South Pole and had hoped that she, along with her highly skilled team, would lead to quick results.  He was wrong, and now after accidents and illness had plagued the group, there were only two left.  And they could barely stand to be in the same room together.

 

Tanaka could hardly say he was missing her company, but she had been gone quite a long time.  One of the first things Moon had drilled into him was not to go outside alone, and never stay outside for over an hour without a pack of supplies. 

 

Tanaka glances at his watch—Moon is breaking her own rules.

 

Over the next fifteen minutes he debates with himself.  Is she just being her stubborn, know-it-all self, or did something happen?  Would she be mad if he went out to look for her?  Did he even want to go out and look for her?  After another fifteen minutes of waiting for her to walk back in, he makes up his mind.

 

He dons his outerwear and grabs another lantern.  He shuts the door to the equipment room and enters the airlock.  The second door shuts, and Tanaka feels the warm air slowly drift away as he reaches for the third.  He takes a deep breath and opens the latch, pushing the door outward toward the snow and ice and frost.

 

The cold hits him immediately, frigid wind whipping at his face and he feels a chill start to creep in his bones, despite the many layers of clothing. 

 

Any tracks Moon has made are now obscured by fresh snow, yet he trudges on toward the generator.  He hears nothing until he is only about five feet away, and then the sound of labored breathing and painful moaning meets his ears.  He rushes forward, the generator comes into view and so does Moon, clutching her leg in pain.

 

“Dr. Moon,” he cries, kneeling beside her.  “What happened?”

 

She is clutching her leg in pain and yet still manages to level a glare at Tanaka.  “What does it look like happened?”

 

Tanaka bites back a rude remark and reaches for her.  It’s clear from the way she’s holding her leg that it’s too painful for her to walk.  The compound door isn’t far; Tanaka is sure he can carry her.

 

“I can walk,” she says through gritted teeth.  “I think it’s just a sprain.”  She attempts to stand using Tanaka to steady her weight.  As soon as she lets go of him she nearly collapses.

 

Tanaka grabs her before she hits the ground and hoists her in his arms, carrying her bridal style through the snow.

 

“You clearly can’t walk,” he says.  She huffs indignantly.  “What happened?”  He has to shout to be heard over the wind.

 

“The gas panel came loose and sprung a leak,” she tells him.  “I was trying to put it back on, but it fell off completely and landed on my ankle.”

 

If Tanaka remembers correctly, the gas panel, as well as the whole generator, is made out of the same thick steel as the doors to the compound.  Just a few square inches must weigh a ton.

 

“It might be broken,” Tanaka says.  “I’ll look at it when we get inside.”

 

They approach the door and Tanaka gingerly puts the doctor down.  “Lean on me,” he tells her.  She complies silently, which is almost like a miracle, Tanaka thinks.  He opens the door and they shuffle into the airlock, upon opening the second door they are greeted by the darkness of equipment room and Tanaka swears it’s a few degrees cooler than when he left. 

 

Upon entering the living area, Tanaka sits the doctor at the table and turns on his flashlight.  He slowly removes Moon’s boot; she hisses in pain.

 

“I can take care of this,” she says.  “You need to fix the generator.”

 

“Just let me look at it,” he replies.  He rolls up her pants and long johns, and takes off her thick socks.  Even in the dim light it looks bad--swollen and purple and painful.  He lightly presses against the swollen skin.

 

“Ow!” she cries.

 

“I’m afraid it might be fractured,” he tells her.  “I’ll wrap it.”

 

“Wrap it later,” she says.  “You need to fix the generator; otherwise you don’t be able to see what you’re doing.”

 

Tanaka sighs.  “Tell me what to do.”

 

Tanaka has never welded anything before, but he doesn’t let that stop him.  It’s not so bad, he thinks, once he gets the hang of it.  He only nearly burns himself twice.  It’s not the prettiest, but as long as it lasts that’s all that matter.  Although its permanence presents a problem in and of itself; he’s welded the panel completely shut.  There’s no way to repair the hinges, which means once the gas he filled the tank with runs out, that’s it.  The generator will be dead with no way to refuel it.

 

Dr. Moon had explained the consequences of fixing the generator before Tanaka set out.  They have about a week, if they’re very resourceful.  Moon has radioed in for an airlift, the third since their arrival in the South Pole.  It’s put her in an even fouler mood.

 

Tanaka returns to a warm and well-lit compound, only to find that the doctor has bandaged her own ankle, and quite expertly at that.

 

“I didn’t think you were a medical doctor too,” he says.

 

She snorts.  “I used to be an EMT,” she explains.  “Before I got my doctorate.”

 

“Handy.”

 

Moon shrugs.  “I’ve saved a life or two.”

 

“How’s your ankle?” he asks.

 

“It’s okay,” she says.  “I’ll just stay off it for a while.”

 

“It’s fractured, isn’t it?”

 

She frowns, like she doesn’t want to admit it.  “Possibly.”

 

“And you call me stubborn,” he mutters.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“You heard me,” Tanaka replies.  “You call me stubborn, but you’re the exact same way.”

 

“Excuse me?” Moon asks, incredulous.

 

“This whole time you’ve been bossing us around, and look where it’s gotten us!”  He stands up, and he is sure Moon would be on her feet too if it weren’t for her ankle.  “This whole thing is a complete failure!”

 

“Yeah?” Moon replies, her voice going shrilly.  “You’re the one who hired me, so if you don’t like it then you can do this by yourself!”

 

“Well once we get off this miserable patch of ice we’ll never have to see each other again!”

 

“I can’t wait!” Moon shrieks.  Tanaka barely manages to keep from wincing.  Her voice echoes against the walls and rings in his ears.

 

Tanaka clenches his fists.  He can’t talk to this woman; she’s impossible.  “I’m going to sleep,” he says, turning sharply on his heel.  “Good night.”

 

He stalks to his bedroom, leaving Moon to stew in her outrage.  He slams his bedroom door behind him and collapses on his bunk.  Tanaka automatically reaches for Sozin’s journal tucked underneath his pillow.  It’s a futile endeavor, combing through the pages searching for clues.  Sozin’s navigation equipment had been so heavy that when several of the ponies died, they had left it behind, relying only on the stars and hand held compasses.  There was no telling how correct their coordinates were.

 

He remembers overhearing Moon talk to one of her colleagues before he left the base.  They had been arguing over whether or not to go out again to look for signs of Sozin’s party.  Moon’s colleague had said Tanaka had too much money and not enough sense.  Moon hadn’t disagreed.

 

Tanaka doesn’t disagree either.  Not anymore.

 

“Fuck!”  Moon swears so loudly that Tanaka feels as if she has screamed it right in his ear.  He doesn’t think, but bolts from his room and into the common area.

 

Moon is on the floor, clutching her ankle and holding back tears.

 

“Are you okay?” Tanaka asks.

 

“Yes,” Moon snaps.  “I’m fine.”  She grabs the table to pull herself up.  She only makes it halfway before she puts her bad ankle on the floor and tries to stifle a cry of pain.  She lets go of the table and falls again.  Tanaka carefully approaches her.

 

“Do you need help?” he asks.  He’s trying for polite but it comes across as condescending—like Moon needs another reason to hate him.

 

“No.”

 

"You woke me up.” 




 

The glare she gives him would melt the entire Antarctic.  If only.  He leaves again, but lingers in the hallway unseen.  He can’t quite bring himself to lock himself in his bunk, but he knows both of their egos won’t allow him to help.

 

He hears her attempt to stand again, and the subsequent stifled cry of pain.  He knows he isn’t a bad guy, but still he hesitates.  Get yelled at again, or put her out of her misery?  He sighs and brusquely strides to Moon.  She doesn’t have time to say anything before he picks her up like he did outside and carries her away.  Before he makes it to her room, however, the radio buzzes.

 

“Wait,” she says.  “It’s probably the pilot.”

 

Tanaka turns around and sets Moon on the table.  He picks up the receiver and codes in.  The pilot’s voice comes through and it’s exactly what Tanaka didn’t want to hear: the weather’s too severe, and there’s no way they’ll be airlifted out anytime soon.

 

Both Tanaka and Moon are completely silent, then, “Fuck.”  Tanaka runs his hand distractedly through his hair.

 

“We need to shut down the overhead lights,” Moon says.  “And we can shut off the heat to the auxiliary wing.”  Her voice is level and direct, the tone she uses only when things are FUBAR.  Tanaka thinks she would make one hell of a general.

 

“The whole wing?” Tanaka asks.  “We’ll freeze in our bunks.”

 

“We have to start conserving power anyway we can.  There’s no reason to pump heat and electricity into a wing we hardly use.”

 

“So, what?  We just sleep in here?”

 

Moon nods.  “Bring out the blankets and pillows from our rooms, then shut the door to the wing.  I’ll turn off the power.”

 

Tanaka dislikes the idea of being enclosed in an even more confined space, but he knows she’s right.  He does as he’s told without a word.  Moon hobbles to the control panel.  She makes an admirable effort to not make a noise, but Tanaka can’t refrain from saying something.

 

“You should really stay off that foot.  You’ll only make it worse.”

 

“It’s fine,” she says through gritted teeth.  “The swelling’s gone down some.”

 

“It’s not fine,” Tanaka replies.  “You can barely walk.  Did you even take any painkillers?”

 

“I don’t need to because it’s fine,” she tells him tersely.  She collapses on the bedding Tanaka has lain out.

 

“What is wrong with you?” he cries.  “Look at yourself!  You’re injured and in pain, why won’t you let me help you?”

 

“I can take care of myself,” she says.  “Why do you care, anyway?  I thought you wanted me to shut up so you could get some sleep.”

 

Tanaka frowns, but doesn’t respond.  He turns out the light and lies down on his makeshift bed.  It’s not so bad, and it’s not as if his bunk was much more comfortable.

 

It takes a while, but eventually he falls asleep.  It’s not a deep sleep; he can’t anymore, not after all of his military training.  It doesn’t take much to wake him up, so when Moon begins whimpering not two feet away, Tanaka’s eyes shoot open.  He knew it.  The pain must be immense and she’s too stubborn or proud or both, to ask for help.  So he doesn’t wait for her permission, but grabs for the first aid kit and turns on the light.

 

“What are you—”  But before she can finish, he’s already at her side filling a syringe with morphine.  “I told you, I don’t need that.”

 

“You’re not allergic, are you?” he asks.

 

“To morphine?  No, but—”

 

“Good.”  He injects the drug into her arm and it only takes a few seconds before she relaxes.  “Better?”

 

She nods.  “Just enough to take the edge off.  How did you know?”

 

“I was in the military,” he says.  “I know how to field dress.”

 

“Right.”

 

Tanaka reaches for her ankle and begins unwrapping it.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Checking it,” he replies.  “I think it might be infected.”  Tanaka glances at Moon’s pale face and clammy skin.  It could just be from the pain, but better to be safe than sorry.  “Did you take any antibiotics when you wrapped it?”

 

Moon sighs.  “I didn’t want to waste them.”

 

“It’s not a waste if you’re really sick,” Tanaka tells her quietly.  He digs out another syringe and a container of antibiotics.  Her ankle’s still pretty swollen and the bruising looks worse; Tanaka doesn’t want to take any chances.

 

“Did you have to do this a lot in the military?” she asks.  “You’re pretty good at it.”

 

Tanaka shrugs.  “Sometimes.”

 

“Is it because of your…” she trails off, but looks pointedly at the left side of his face, the scarred side.  She looks away quickly.  “Sorry,” she says.  “It must be the morphine talking.”

 

“No,” he says.  “This happened to me when I was young.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay,” he replies with a rueful smile.  “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

 

“That’s good.”  She shivers, so Tanaka replaces her blankets. 

 

“Get some sleep,” he says, then retreats to his bed. 

 

The lights are out once again, and Tanaka tries to resume some semblance of sleep.  It’s disconcerting to be sleeping in such an open space, and so close to someone else that he can hear her breath.  Tanaka can’t remember the last time he and Moon have spent so much time together, especially without yelling at each other. 

 

“Captain Tanaka?”  She whispers, but her voice carries throughout the metal dome.  “Do you have another blanket?”

 

Tanaka stands with one of his blankets and approaches her.  He drapes the blanket over her, and lays his hand across her forehead.  “You have a fever,” he says.  Her forehead is burning and he kicks himself not to have realized it earlier.  “You’re burning up.  Has it been like this the whole time?”  Her eyes close and she doesn’t reply.  “Dr. Moon?”

 

“You can call me Katara,” she says.

 

“Okay, Katara, how long have you been shivering?”

 

“I don’t know.”  She smiles a little.  “Doesn’t everyone get cold in the South Pole?”

 

It might be funny if the situation weren’t so dire.  Tanaka gets a compress and some more blankets for Moon—Katara, rather.

 

“Thank you, Captain,” she says.

 

“You can call me Zuko, if you want,” he tells her.  It’s only fair, after all.

 

“Thank you, Zuko.”  Zuko thought it would be strange to hear his first name come from her lips, but it’s not.  It’s been so long since someone’s called him that.  It feels… nice.

 

“You should drink some water,” Zuko says.  “Or tea.  I think I still have some left.”

 

“Tea sounds nice,” Katara replies.

 

Zuko dutifully begins boiling water and steeping the tea, doing it exactly as his uncle taught him.  He’s nowhere near as good at it as his uncle is, but he always tries his best.  The whole process doesn’t take long, but when Zuko sets down the tray next to Katara, she is already fast asleep.  Zuko sips his tea in silence, wondering if her friendliness will only last as long as the morphine does.

 

Zuko wakes to find Katara already up, signaling someone on the radio.

 

“Katara?” he asks groggily.  “Are you feeling better?”

 

She doesn’t respond, but listens intently through the headset.

 

“Katara?”

 

“The weather’s still pretty bad,” she says.  “But hopefully it’ll only last a few days longer.”

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Fine,” she replies. 

 

Back to that again?  Zuko does his best to hide his disappointment.  “Do you still have a fever?”

 

“It went down.”

 

Zuko emits a loud, exaggerated sigh.

 

“What?” Katara asks.  More like demands.

 

“Let’s not do this again,” he says. 

 

“Do what?”

 

“Nothing,” Zuko mutters.  “Do you need another shot of morphine?”

 

“No,” she says.

 

“Oh.”  Zuko tries to hide his disappointment by burying himself in Sozin’s journal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t read before, but it makes him look busy.  Katara doesn’t buy it.

 

“Why?” she asks.  “Do you think more morphine will loosen me up a bit?”

 

“What?” Zuko gasps, clearly affronted.  “No.”

 

Katara grins.  “It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that.  Only, it was vodka instead of morphine.”

 

“That’s not… very nice,” he says.  He clears his throat.  “But I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in any pain.”

 

He almost doesn’t notice her eyes flick to his scar.  “Thank you,” she says.  “For last night.  You were right; I was too stubborn for my own good.”

 

Zuko does a double take.  He’s right for once?  “Uh, you’re welcome.”

 

Now that they aren’t arguing, it’s like he doesn’t know what to say.  He goes back to reading the journal.

 

“I am sorry, you know,” Katara says.

 

“For what?”

 

“Not finding your great grandfather.  I know it’s really important to you, and I’m sorry we failed.”  She looks at him with an apologetic smile.

 

“It’s not important to me,” Zuko mutters.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“It’s not important to me,” he repeats, and as soon as he sees the look on her face he knows it’s the wrong thing to say.

 

“So you’re saying that three of my colleagues’ lives were endangered, my ankle was broken, and we’re stranded in the middle of an ice storm for something that’s not even important?”  If she weren’t injured Zuko is positive she’d be standing over him, all indignity and fury.

 

“Just let me explain!”




 

“Explain what?  How you’ve wasted my time for something that you don’t even care about?”

 

“It’s not like that, okay?”  He stands up, and she can’t.  It makes him feel a little better.

 

“What’s it like then?” she spits.  “You have all this money sitting around and nothing to do with it, so you decide to fuck around in Antarctica for a little while?”  She glares at him, and it feels like his soul is being pierced by tiny dagger.  “Did you think it would be fun, something to brag to your friends back home about?”

 

“No!” he shouts.  “I just wanted—”

 

“You just wanted what?  Glory?  Fame?”  Her cries ring in his ears, but it’s what she says next, so softly, that tears into his heart.  “You are _exactly_ like Sozin, and Azulon and Ozai.”

 

Zuko’s eyes widen in shock.

 

“What,” she says.  “You think I wouldn’t know?  I know all about your family and what they’ve done, what they still do.”  Zuko’s frozen; this isn’t happening.  “How many people has your family bought, sold, and killed?  How many people’s lives, people’s families—my family—have been ruined just because yours wanted a little more money?”  Her voice cracks and Zuko can’t take it anymore.

 

“Shut up!” Zuko yells, grabbing her by the shoulders and pinning her back against the steel table.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”  He looks her right in the eye, and sees the tears forming in her bright blue irises.  His face is mere centimeters away from hers.  “I’m not like them.”

 

“Then prove it.”

 

“I swear,” he says.  “I’ll never let them hurt you again.”  And he kisses her. 

 

Her lips are soft, and she opens them; his tongue slides inside.  She grabs his shirt and pulls him closer.  His arms wrap around her and he lifts her out of her seat and onto the table.  Zuko’s fingers find the hem of her shirt and slide it up, just as he takes her bottom lip between his teeth and bites.  She gasps and his hands are under her shirt, touching her breasts, and something in her breaks.

 

Katara tears at his shirt, pulling it off and running her fingernails down his bare chest.  He pushes her down on the table, hovering over her and nipping at her neck.  Somehow Katara loses her shirt too, then her bra, and their bodies are pressed together.  Their lips, their hands entwined and every inch of each other longs to be closer, to be more.

 

“Katara,” he whispers, hesitant, unsure.

 

“Please,” she says.  “Please.”  Her fingers trailed down to his waist, and lower, and she feels him.  “Now.”

 

It takes him no time to comply, and even though he is gentle, she is not.  She pulls him inside her and digs her nails into his back.  Every time her hips rise to meet his another wave of pleasure crashes over him.  It’s intense and incredible and Zuko forgets about Sozin, the South Pole, his family, her family, the generator, the weather, everything else but her.  He’s totally lost to the rhythm, the way her body arches and her lips part, the way she holds him inside of her, the way they fit so perfectly.  She cries out, tearing at his skin and he slams into her, faster and harder until he too yells her name, then kisses her everywhere his lips can reach.

 

Hours later he wakes, again in his makeshift bed, but this time Katara is by his side.  She’s wrapped around him, looking at him both content and apologetic.

 

“I’m sorry,” she says.

 

“About… about that?” he asks tentatively.

 

She shakes her head.  “About how I treated you, but I was so angry at you—well, your family—that I couldn’t think straight.”  She looks away, and Zuko notices tears welling up in her eyes.  “This whole mess is my fault.”  She bites her lip, pausing.  “I needed the money,” she says finally.  “I lost funding for my research so agreed to work for you.”  She looks at him, ashamed.  “I thought I could ignore it, it’s not like you’re the one that took her; you would’ve been a little boy back then.”  She takes a deep, shaky breath.  “But I couldn’t and I thought it was because I hated you, and your family.  But I hated myself even more and I couldn’t get past it and I’m sorry, Zuko.  I’m so, so sorry.”

 

Zuko wraps his arm tightly around her, giving her a gentle squeeze.  “I’m sorry for what they did to your family.  Was it… was it your mother?”  She nods.  “I can’t make it up to you,” he continues.  “Nothing can.  But I swear I’m going to make it so they can’t do it again.  To anyone.”

 

“But your family…”

 

“I’ve seen what they do to those women, girls, even,” he tells her.  “I tried to put a stop to it, closing down whorehouses without my father knowing.  But he found out anyway.  And sent me here.”

 

“He exiled you to the South Pole?” Katara asks.

 

“He knows what we both do: it’s impossible.”




 

“It’s not,” she says.  “We’ll come back next spring, and the next if we have to.  We’ll make it stop, I promise.”

 

Zuko kisses the top of her head.  “Thank you.”

 

Suddenly the radio crackles; the airlift’s on its way.

 

“But it won’t be here for a few hours,” Katara smiles.  “We’ve got some time.”  She kisses him and for once Zuko is glad to be in exile.

 

 

 


End file.
